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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699137">These Hands of Mine: Lost Chapters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire_Ruby/pseuds/Sapphire_Ruby'>Sapphire_Ruby</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>These Hands of Mine [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>jacksepticeye</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:33:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699137</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire_Ruby/pseuds/Sapphire_Ruby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>So, I'm trying to do this thing where I write more. Not even necessarily stories, but just write to write. And I figure, why not give some more backstory to my current universe I'm writing in: These Hands of Mine.<br/>Basically, these are rough and unpolished short things I wrote. I may decide at a later date to refine them, draw them out, or even reuse them (if I ever made a sequel). But for now, consider them as universe building. And for the most part, I'm trying to keep everything consistent.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>These Hands of Mine [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2166939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Finding the Muse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Inspiration never was an easy thing for Jameson. Even harder was putting the note in ink. He was so grateful Chase had introduced him to the video recorder. It let him see what was he was doing, his technique, what notes he was <em>actually</em> playing. Sometimes he would need it to remember the patterns at the beginning. Sometimes he predicted where the notes should have gone. But the best part? He could play back one instrument while working on another. Was much simpler than playing it until he had an earworm for it.</p><p>But today, it was just one simple rhythm stuck in his head. D - - - C - D C Bb - - - … . and that was all his mind was thinking. So, he started playing his finger warm-ups. Let himself practice (well, reiterate) the one song he always played around with. Setting the tempo, dynamics, and general flow of the notes set the tone for the music. And suddenly, it struck him. Right in the middle.</p><p>Wasting no time, Jameson angled the recorder so it was facing his finger, then he let his finger play the baseline, turning the right hand’s melody into simple half note chords. His left changed the pattern, going from a simple rise and fall to a cross over and down. A change in key from the original song. And as he continued, the verse turned into a chorus. And finally, into a bridge. And there was that simple melody. Only this time, he could continue on. To the very end, doing two ending fake outs, because dancing between the black and white keys was far too fun. Then, he stood up, and finished the recording. Playing it back once, he could start to hear the melody dancing in his head. Second run through, and he let his fingers dance to their will.</p><p>For this one at least, the ink wasn’t so heavy in his hand. Perhaps for an actual recording, he would need to double layer. Chase would need to show him that. Or, maybe he could move the melody over to one of his other instruments. Surely it could work on the violin, or viola. Mayhaps the clarinet even. It would have been nice if one of his brothers could play this with him. But, they would need more practice, if they even felt comfortable with it. That was for another time though. A talk during the morning if they had breakfast together. Or were finally all home in the evening. But for now, Jameson was comfortable simply practicing, perfecting his new piece.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Trauma</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>from Henrik's perspective</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Trauma. Strange how it could come out of nowhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like when Jackie nearly died in the accident. He was miraculously strong enough to escape the building before it collapsed. Not just with his life, but with some others too. Even tried going back into the building for more people before a whole team of firefighters and EMTs had to wrestle him the the ground before he’d lost consciousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or when Henrik had woken up to 17 missed calls and scrambled to make the eight hour drive down to see him. Seeing his idiot kid brother being commended a hero when all he saw was his battered, broken, comatose brother. How he’d made the silent vow to become a surgeon that day so he could treat patients like this. Make it so they could go back to the way things were before any accident happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or when he’d found Jamie crying in the bathroom at 4 am one night when he was home from college break. How his sweetest brother had been made that laughing stock of his high school because it got out that he had a huge crush on this one girl. And how Henrik just sat on the bathroom floor with him, hugging him until he fell asleep. Carrying him to bed and staying by his side until he woke up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or when Chase was in court to try and get custody of his kids and that bitch of a woman kidnapped them and fled the country. How he searched for months and tried working with the cops, but no one got anywhere. And then when he’d attempted. How Henrik had heard the gasps and whispered cries and had to get him down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strange, how it all seems so sudden at the time. But how it forever changes and shapes what life is like. Even if Henrik could move past some events, some still remained as fresh and terrifying as the first time he’d worked on a patient.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Heart Ache</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The last time Jackie let himself have a girlfriend</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was so hard for Jackie to leave her. Convince her that this was for her sake, not his. That it wasn’t that she wasn’t “too action-packed” for him or “too boring.” It wasn’t the fact that she didn’t like the same kind of movies or food. He wasn’t “getting tired of her.” And it wasn’t the fact that he was being “run ragged” from his job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They worked. But that morning, there’d been an accident. There was a robbery at Jackie’s bank. Only he was Jackie when it started, not Jackieboy man. So when the criminals took them hostage, he couldn’t take them out without revealing his true identity. He tried working out a plan, a way to do a seamless take-down of the three of them using just his strength and agility. But then the main robber started shouting. Negotiations were breaking down. “You think this is a game!?” Jackie’s eyes squeezed shut involuntarily and his hearing disappeared for a moment. Hands covering his ears, Jackie opened his eyes and looked at the source: a muzzle. Following its trajectory, it landed right into the heart of the man next to him. Jackie tried to help him, comfort him, do something, but red just started staining his fingers. “How many more rounds do you want to play?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jackie moved without thinking and the villain was on the ground. Before the other two got a chance to even point their guns, he was leaping over to them, one punch blows and they were both down. It was done. It was over. But everyone was still cowering in fear. Looking at his fists, even more blood covered them now. Even if he could wash it out, the stains would always be there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was dangerous. And he lived a dangerous life. It was lucky that he just had to deal with random criminals and small gangs and not some super-villain like in the movies. But there was a target on his back, and it was only a matter of time before someone figured out who he was. He didn’t live at home with his brothers, so it would take digging to get to them. But Lexi was right here, living with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, it was better this way. Protect her from the complication of his life. Seemed one of his superpowers was attracting danger. And he wouldn’t let her get caught in any crossfire. Not if he could help it. No matter how much he loved her, the pain of leaving her now was better than the pain of losing her in the future.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Being Bold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chase was never really shy, but it was such a change to meet someone so up front.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stacy had walked up to him one day after he’d just finished a session with a client, and straight up asked if he’d coach her. He was kinda flustered and told her that he’d have to look at his schedule, but it might just be easier to book a time with him at the front desk or online. By the next morning, she had a personal training session with him that Friday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She communicated with him, sweated through the work and hardship, and never really complained. Just, onto the next challenge. And she was making great progress too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made it all the more surprising when she suddenly stopped booking sessions. And on their last day, she asked him out. Said she didn’t want to make things awkward, being a client and all. Well, what was he supposed to say to that? He didn’t date clients, but she wouldn’t be a client. And maybe it was just her romanticizing their relationship. But, Chase couldn’t fully process this. So, he just said he’d need to think about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without skipping a beat, Stacy told him. “You have my number. Just give me a call when you decide.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chase asked a couple of his mates, and they just congratulated him that a “babe was interested in his ass.” But somehow, that didn’t help him make any decision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jackie was the only one in the family with any real dating experience, so Chase asked him for advice. And what it boiled down to was “do you feel like it’s okay to do this?” and “Are you okay with this?” It wasn’t against policy, and she was physically attractive, but Chase didn’t know if he had feelings for her or not. Jackie, the extrovert he was, never missing a chance to meet people, suggested that he go for it. Simple coffee and just a chat, low risk. See if the two of them had something in common. Worse comes to worse, they go their separate ways. But what was the worst that could really happen?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, Chase looked up her phone number, punched it in, and waited for the voicemail box. But she picked up instead. “Stacy?   H-Hi. It’s uh, it’s Chase. I uh, Would you like to go out for coffee one of these days?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Sound in the Silence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Silence. It was a hard thing to tolerate when noise had been he’d past environment for the past 15 years of his life. But with Henrik off at med school, and Chase having moved in with Stacy, and Jackie doing all kinds of things outside the house, that’s what Jameson’s home had become. Sometimes, he’d just leave the TV on downstairs so there was some background noise when he ventured out of his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>High school had brought changes with it. Many many more than he’d hoped for, all at the same time. Puberty, having to take care of nearly everything himself now, worrying about starting to learn to drive soon, and this damn silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d taken to cleaning to get his mind off things. Only took him a week to fully make his room. Even though Chase was a slob, Jameson didn’t dare touch his older brother’s room. He was living with his girlfriend, yes, but he still came back sometimes. It felt wrong to violate that space. Common areas? Jameson did that on a daily basis anyway. That only left the three clutter zones: the basement, the storage room, and the garage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening the musty old door to the forgotten room, Jameson’s lungs were greeted with a barrage of dust particles. He started hacking to remove them from his lungs and gazed as the fading sunlight illuminated all that was accumulated in here. Best to start with the vacuum then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost like a treasure hunt  in the storage room, digging through things, removing the musty layers to find hidden gems. Like Henrik’s first diploma, an old photo album of Jack, before Jameson ever knew him. And the old keyboard. Jameson wondered if it still worked, if he had retained any of the lessons from when he was small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lugging the keyboard out of the room and setting it down in the hallway, Jameson tentatively pressed down on the keys. Well, they sounded the same. Not that an electronic keyboard could go out of tune that is. What were those scales he used to do? And the warm ups? His fingers started falling back into a rhythm. Shaking out his rusty wrists, he tried to figure out the first few notes of a song. Perhaps muscle memory was still a thing after over a decade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of the door opening caught his attention. Jameson paused, wondering how he should hide this huge object. But before he could even fully stand up, Jackie’s steps were already bounding up the stairs. Cheeks hot, all Jameson could do was look away from the instrument and try to move out from the middle of the hall. “Hey Jamie! Whatcha – Hey! I didn’t know we still had this thing!” Slanting his gaze from the piano, Jameson caught his brother marveling at it. “Can you still play?” Jameson shrugged. It seemed he could warm up, but songs, who knew? Maybe if he had actual sheets to look off of, then he’d know. “Well hey, maybe you could teach me one of these days. Would be nice to actually be able to use my hands for something more than just brute force.” Just as casually as he’d flown in, Jackie leaped over the keyboard into the bathroom. A smile crept along Jameson’s face. Maybe, maybe he would just start learning the piano again. He’d need room for it. If he got even part of the storage room sorted out  — maybe move the unused stuff to the basement and return things to their owner’s rooms  — he could use it as a practice room. And maybe, maybe the house wouldn’t feel so quiet anymore. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. His First House</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>another Henrik perspective</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Henrik didn’t enjoy reminiscing about the past. There were happy moments, yes, but all his brain could hold onto were things with strong emotions at this point. Usually, it surrounded large life changes. But sometimes, they were morphs of long periods, or the same task, but something so solid that his mind had to keep.</p><p>The earliest memory Henrik had he knew to be fake. His mother was lulling him to sleep, blonde curls, blue eyes, and fair skin. A general hum of a tune in a foreign language, with words that Henrik had long since forgotten. But surely it had to be a composite of what he imagined she looked like. She’d left them before he started school, and dad had taken all the pictures with her and hidden them. Her voice though, it never left. And when he read the letters she’d send, he could hear her reading each one of them.</p><p>Sometime later, when he was forming real memories, Henrik could recall his dad bringing a new girl into the house. She had darker blonde hair than his mom, and she used to laugh a lot with dad. His first big memory involving her came when she was sitting on the couch, holding a tiny baby wrapped in a blue blanket. It had a little tuft of that same darker blonde on its head. Henrik remembered being mad because he didn’t get to miss school, but it was layered with another falsehood. The memory had a flash of anger, but then his brain romanticized it as Henrik came to love his baby brother. Seeing tiny Chase, lovingly cradled by his own mom.</p><p>From five to six, there were a lot of emotions overwhelming his tiny brain. Sad and unhappy that he had to go to school. Happy when he’d made some friends. But, his home life evolved dramatically. Chase carved a big part of it. Not because he was constantly crying, or taking all the attention away from him. No, there was worse shouting, and worse attention paid to him, and worse attention in the house general.</p><p>There was much more yelling. Too loud to block out by covering his ears. It would upset him, and then upset Chase, and then the adults would get even more upset. One night, he’d figured out that he could hide in his room, with the door shut, and a CD playing. Henrik started bringing Chase up with him too. If Henrik was this scared, baby Chase must have been terrified. Chase normally wasn’t too fussy. He seemed to like the time in Henrik’s room too. Sometimes, the two of them would fall asleep on the floor together. Other times, Chase would wake up crying and Henrik would have to tuck a blanket around him and try and get him to stop crying. The same tune his mother used to hum, with made-up words in the middle.</p><p>And there was this one memory. Maybe he was seven? He remembered locking his door, and calling the police, and holding little Chase so tight in his own tiny arms. There was so much fear, and yelling, and wailing. There were large gaps in time, gaps Henrik assumed were filled with police or firemen or EMTs. But he wouldn’t let baby Chase go. No one could touch his baby brother. Henrik was the only safety Chase had.</p><p>After that incident, the house was quiet during the nights now. Henrik got to watch TV now that he was able to be downstairs, but he didn’t spend as much time with his dad as before. The other thing he remembered was making so many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that he was sick of them for the next few years.</p><p>When his dad met Cynthia, Henrik was able to remember more of their relationship, especially being grossed out whenever he caught his dad kissing her. Chase was toddling about, and asking so many questions, and always following Henrik around. Even though it would have been easier to yell at Chase to leave him alone, Henrik couldn’t do that. Instead, he was diligent and would spend time answering questions with Chase. But, that was really tough, so Henrik just started making reading time with Chase. Even started making his own little library in his room. Maybe Chase would do well in school if he got a head start. Maybe it would help to see Chase grow up so strong, and kind, and safe.</p><p>Cynthia had gotten pregnant when Henrik was nearly ten, and he remembered that as she got bigger, she started talking about little Jackie and little Marvin. Even made Henrik put his hand on her stomach one time. When Henrik felt a kick, he pulled away, somewhat disgusted and also fascinated about that happening. But Cynthia just laughed at him a little, and made some little remark about the babies.</p><p>He got pulled out of class one day, both he and Chase. And they were just told to sit and wait in the principal’s office. Their neighbor came to get them after a time and drove them home. Chase was just happy to be out of school. So was Henrik, but both of them getting the day off was very strange. Especially with no reason given. Ms. Carter was really nice and stayed with them at home. Henrik didn’t remember exactly how she said it, but it took time for it to actually hit him. Cynthia wasn’t coming home. Neither was baby Marvin.</p><p>When his dad did finally come home, there was only one baby. Jackie. The three of them spent a lot of time hanging out at Ms. Carter’s house. Henrik would try to wrangle in Chase (to no avail), and help her swaddle Jackie when he got fussy. He didn’t know why they had to stay at Ms. Carter’s for so long after school. He was getting close to being eleven and definitely old enough to look after the boys. But all she would say is that his dad needed the house to himself for a time.</p><p>Yet, they still ate dinner in their own home (usually cooked by Ms. Carter) and still slept there. And his dad still tucked them all in at night. Yes, Henrik missed Cynthia and maybe baby Marvin, but he missed spending time with his dad more.</p><p>And then his memories shifted from a sort of shadowy sadness to a black and white fluctuation. Moving from their old house was hard, but his dad had said it would be a better start. Henrik had wished it stayed that way.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Late Night Plans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Opening the door to taunting and yelling and exacerbated sighing was such a startle from the quiet outside. Even lovelier was the sight of his three brothers on the couch, each with a death grip on his controller, hunched over, giving it his all. Jameson with his tongue sticking slightly out just past his lips, controller firmly in his grasp and comfortably on his lap. Jackie’s arms bent and tucked in so tight and controller so close to his mouth he must have felt the heat from his breath on his hands. Henrik, controller moving from this position to that one, almost like moving to these exact positions gave him skills.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chase waited until there were two sighs of defeat before stepping into view. “Sup fellas?” Jameson looked up and smiled so wide that it reminded Chase of that :D face. And he did this big enthusiastic wave before remembering he had legs that could carry him to his older brother. Enveloping him in a hug, Chase looked down at his younger brother, tossling his hair a little. “Missed seeing you too Jamie,” he added with a chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What you doing here?!” Jackie yelled a bit too loud for the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, like I need a reason to check in on you dweebs?” Jameson retreated, having fulfilled his hug quota with Chase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but some planning would be nice.” Henrik fiddled a little with his controller before finally standing up. Went over and gave Chase a handshake, pulling him into a quick pat on the back hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never are spontaneous though, doc. Gotta learn to live a little,” Chase teased. It always was fun to see Henrik fume for a few seconds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s still great to see ya though.” Chase whipped around to find Jackie, but nothing. Suddenly, his vision was dark. “Up here dumbass!” Flipping his cap up, Chase smiled as Jackie looked back down mischievously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, whatcha boys been up to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mario kart,” Jackie landed his feet back on the ground, “ever since my night freed up.” Curiosity tingled on Chase’s tongue. Sounded like Jackie wanted to elaborate too, the way it was worded. His initial thought was to just leave it alone, but ever since getting with Stacy, he’d developed a habit of asking when those leading words turned about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got a free night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lexi got sick and canceled plans tonight. S’okay though.” Jackie shrugged like it was no big deal, but Chase saw his lips turn into a smile without the accompanying light in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, why are you here then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To prevent the spread of infection,” Henrik called from the couch, making Chase only now realize that Henrik had snuck away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So? You’re supposed to go over there and cuddle and bring chicken noodle soup. You like her don’t ya?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but. I-” Jackie had his finger up to protest, but his eyes started showing his brain processing. His head made those little tilts he always did when he was trying to think. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide and he was racing off to the kitchen. Chase started chuckling a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess I’m taking his spot in Mario kart then,” Chase commented, finally removing his coat and shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What makes you so sure?” Henrik could be such a bother sometimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because,” Chase trailed, waiting until he was squished up in the middle of the couch between the oldest and youngest members of the family. “It wouldn’t be fair to JJ if he won by default. He deserves a proper win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m only 2 points behind!” Henrik barked, furiously grabbing his and Chase’s controllers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a whole lot of clanging and objects moving from the kitchen, and Chase laughed a little again. Jackie may have had a flare for the dramatic, but he could be clueless on the little subtleties sometimes. Not that Chase was any better, but he was learning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They chose the track and all Chase could think is that hopefully this would make his night better. Spending time with his favourite brothers (well, only brothers). Hanging out like it was the good ol’ days. Just plain old having a night of fun playing games. “Bye!” Chase heard Jackie yell before the slam of a door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tch, dumbass.” He hoped that he’d made Jackie’s night better too. Seemed like it with how eager he was to race out of there. Looked like Lexi made him happy. That was good. That was always good.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Early Night In</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jackie was at the family home earlier than he’d expected. Gave him time to relax and recharge before heading out for patrol late that night. But, at the sound of clattering metal and a barrage of curses, it seemed that his night was taking a different turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chase’s irate exclamations emanated from the kitchen. Peering around the corner, Jackie started, “Did you need any. . .” stopping when he saw the meat and sauce splattered on the floor, the lines tracing back to a now overturned pan. Chase was hunched over the sink, but Jackie could still hear the sound of water rushing out of the faucet. The room was quieter now, except the occasional sniffle that was increasing in frequency. Flying over the mess, Jackie landed himself on Chase’s left, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lifting his head but still facing the sink, Chase acknowledged Jackie’s presence. Fresh tears were flowing from his eyes and dripping from his chin. “I–” Chase looked back down at the water, Jackie’s gaze following suit. There were small pink bubbles on the back of Chase’s hand surrounded by red flushed skin. “I wanted to have dinner ready before you were back,” he blurted out, another couple of sniffles accompanying it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Jackie tried to comfort, trying to remember what to do for burns. Was that RICE? “Right now, let’s just get you patched up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chase rubbed his thumb over the boils. “But Henrik will be home soon and he had a really big surgery today. He’s always going on about how food is essentially to keep the body working. I can’t– I can’t just disappoint him like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s that important, I can just order us food in. How do you feel about Chinese?” Jackie was trying to keep his voice up. Happy. Positive. He could feel himself shifting into trauma mode.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no no. Have you seen the budget? Since I moved back in, money’s been much tighter. I heard Henrik talking with Jamie one night. Agreeing that they both would take more shifts to get some more money for the house. And I know that you are working yourself weary. I swear I’m trying to find a job, but I can’t do much. So, if I can’t do that, the least I can do is give you guys good home-cooked meals. Because that– that always made me feel better, so maybe it’d help you too. And it’s cheaper than buying out. But I can’t even–” Chase suddenly slammed his knee into the cupboard, and then his mouth opened so wide as he shrunk down and balanced on his good leg, his hands cradling his now damaged knee. “Ow.” It was so soft. “I should be able to do this much,” he spat through gritted teeth, the tears now rolling back down his face, breathing in and out quickly through the pain. “It’s the only thing I can provide,” he resolved, standing straight again and placing his hand under the forcefully cold water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chase Brody,” Jackie was forceful, pulling on Chase’s shoulders so the man was forced to look his brother in the eyes. “You listen to me. It’s not your </span>
  <em>
    <span>job </span>
  </em>
  <span>to try and take care of us. We truly do appreciate you making efforts, like making us dinner a lot of nights. But, you are not a service. You don’t have to provide </span>
  <em>
    <span>goods</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’re going through a shit time right now. We just want to make sure you’re okay. Okay?” By now, Jackie could feel tears welling up too. This burden Chase had placed upon himself, the pain he held right now, he didn’t need to do this alone. Just seeing the utter disbelief in his eyes right now, how could Jackie dare say these things and mean it. Didn’t Chase understand his family would always be there for him? Because that’s how they’d been raised, to protect each other, help each other, love each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Jackie could pull Chase in for a much needed hug, Chase lowered his head and collapsed onto Jackie’s chest. “It’s alright Chase.” Jackie moved a bit closer so he could fully hug his brother. Chase lifted his head onto Jackie’s shoulder, giving them even more room to be close. “It’s alright.” There were loud sniffles and what felt like a large weight on his heart. But Jackie was used to this kind of thing. He hugged Chase tighter. They’d all get him through this.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Never Planned</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Henrik could have had a girlfriend. Girls were practically falling over to date him in college. It just, never felt right to him. Always something else on his mind. Some exam to study for, or something going on with one of his brothers, or having to balance time at his work-study and stress about his student loans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when he got hammered for his twenty-third, out-partying with his friends, they all tried to do him a favor. They’d put together a night out, got some of their other classmates involved. Anyone looking for a good time. Henrik remembered just going along with the shenanigans because for once, his brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. They’d gone into the basement of someone’s house and were doing some wild truth or dare. Henrik, feeling confident as ever kept doing dares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered at some point that everyone was doing a lot of dancing, and that they were doing some form of strip poker or pool or whatever, but it didn’t have to do with those games. And somehow he’d been taken into a closet with a girl with big curly hair. He could remember staring at her lips because they were so red. And they uttered, “Kiss me.” So he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he woke up in someone else’s bed. He didn’t even have time to wonder where his clothes were before his stomach tumbled and he had to crawl and scramble towards the trash bin. When he finally was able to look up from the liquid filled bucket, he tried to look for clothes. There was a bra. His dark jeans. A pair of panties. Slowly steering his head up towards the bed, there was that big hair again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henrik put his head in the bin, the smell making his stomach turn again. “Happy twenty-third,” he murmured to himself, dejected at the reality he found himself in. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Stars In Her Eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Embarrassing, that his hacking woke her up. Worse was how sober and ready she seemed to deal with him. But then again, Henrik had no tolerance, and last night had to have been the worst night of his life. He didn’t know how to approach the subject, of them having had sex. Should he tell her that that was his first time? He should ask about her sexual history, to be medically safe, but there had to be a way to ease into that topic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The swirling thoughts made his head sick again. She was kind enough to help him slump over into the bathroom suite. Head against cold white porcelain illuminated by morning sun, his brain tried to focus. There were few memories, so he’d have to ask her about what happened. He’d have to explain that this was just a one time mistake– thing. It was his fault for getting blackout drunk, not hers. God, did he even get consent? Hitting his head against the wall tile, Henrik felt so ashamed of himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look like you could really use this.” Her soft voice, sweetly flavoured with her British accent, wasn’t as grating on his ears as it should have been. Dragging his head so his eyes could look up, there was a glass of water in front of him. With both hands, he sluggishly reached out and gripped it, carefully bringing the container close to his lips. Tilting it slightly, refreshing water graced his tongue and he started taking large sips. Not too much though as his stomach still hated him at the moment. Gently placing the water beside himself, Henrik looked back up and thanked her before dropping his head to stare at the ground again. He put a hand up to his pounding head and one over his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really can’t hold your alcohol, can you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” There was a joke here. His brain was just slow to find the path to it. “You’d think it different, me being half German.” Water sloshed about in his stomach. Sucking his gut in, Henrik tried to get a grip on his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re all a bit different mate.” He heard the water run and then suddenly stop. “Here, let me help.” Her fingers were cool to the touch as she pried his hand from his forehead, replacing the pressure with a cool bit of cloth. Both his hands were moved to apply pressure on his stomach while she pressed on his forehead. Opening his eyes, he could see her knees on the tile now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this, usually how it is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you got to build up your tolerance and all that if you want to drink so much but–”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not that.” Henrik knew about hangovers. “I mean, the morning after sex.” It felt like his tongue was covered with dirt. It wasn’t a dirty thing, sex. Well, messy and sweaty, but not like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dirty</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was training to be a clinician. People had sex all the time. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. But everyone around him had been building it up and hyping it and such. He was smart, in a lot of ways, but he felt completely clueless about this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” Her voice was still like velvet despite the pain going on in his head. At least she wasn’t condescending about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last night. Didn’t we have sex?” Why did he go along with his friends’ shenanigans and end up like this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! You were flat out wasted! You can’t consent when you’re piss drunk.” So, he didn’t have sex. okay. good. good? But, then what was he doing in bed next to her this morning?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I... try to? I’m really sorry if I–” his stomach rumbled and he squeezed harder against his abdomen to keep it all contained. “Sorry if I made advances. I can’t quite remember anything after we’d started kissing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kissing... Oh! Right, we were necking in the closet. You started to get really into it, but then you started shaking and wobbling. Told me you needed to go lie down but you could barely get walking without leaning. I helped you up the stairs, and you fell a time, which is why you got that cut on your forehead.” Henrik started to move to feel his head, but moving only irritated his aching stomach. “And I dropped you on the bed. I was about to leave, but you um. You stopped me leavin’. So I stayed, and we talked, and chatted, and laughed some. And we fell asleep after a time.” That sounded nice. Nicer than what he’d imagined. Made him wish he’d been a bit more careful with his drinking. “I’m Star, by the way. In case you’ve forgotten that too.” Star. It was nice to actually know her name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Henrik,” he extended his hand, only to violently turn the other way and have his stomach churn up acid. If he wasn’t burning from the acid, he’d be burning from the embarrassment of her seeing him this way. She was so sweet to him. What had he told her that made her want to stay by his side?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>okay, so I'm trying to focus on the main story for now. But, if I do take a break from that, I'll probably be exploring some more of the love aspects for these four boys. No idea which love story people want to see the most, but I'm willing to listen. Hopefully I'll have the energy for it</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Before the Nightmare</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In an alternate version of this story, Henrik found out Marvin's identity much sooner. Sunday night, after Jameson woke up from the car accident and before the boys' nightmares.<br/>Ultimately though, I decided this wasn't the best way to reveal Marvin to Henrik (see chapter 38 for the actual reveal). I'm glad I made the change, but I figure I could still let you see this draft</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No, I haven't forgotten about this. Just haven't had the time/ideas for it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This wasn’t typical, but then again, neither was today. Henrik just hoped he’d get an audience with Jameson’s boss. They’d told him to wait, so that had to be a good sign.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was outside the main hall’s doors. Raucous noise of laughter, merriment, and movement came from beyond to large wooden doors. Seemed they were holding a joyous event inside. Such a foreign idea to him. And it seemed they had a very talented musician playing for them. And a couple of notes pricked at Henrik’s ears. The piano’s melody line continued, and he felt compelled to look at the player inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking great amounts of caution, he slowly opened the door and peeked his head through the gap and started scanning the room. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This wasn’t an easy piece to play</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His eyes finally stopped on the grand piano. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And no one else should be able to play it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He took a step further inside to try and glance at the player behind it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Because Jameson wrote it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The pianist finally looked up and Henrik’s whole body went numb. That man had Jackie’s face. Hair slightly longer and tinted purple, but... it. was. Jackie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henrik tried to scramble out of there, his legs going all janky directions nearly making him fall multiple times. He slammed the door to the hall shut and leaned back onto the door. His brain cried out for oxygen, because it must have hallucinated that, but his lungs couldn’t fill fully. And he was clutching his chest to try and get ahold of himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck? Shit. Shit shit shitshitshitshitSHIT!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Henrik?” His own name caught him off guard as he jolted from his spot. “You had news, about Jameson?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jay?- oh, right right.” There were too many thoughts going on right now. “He and uh, Emma Friedman were in a uh, very serious car accident earlier today. So they uh, won’t be able to come in for at least a few days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” the guy muttered loudly. “You know how long they’ll be laid up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, no. I’m not their doctor.” He was forgetting to do something, but Henrik just kept glancing back at the now closed door, still faintly hearing that stolen song. “I hear you have a new pianist though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who? that Marvin guy? Came recommended by Jameson. He’s good in a pinch and all, but I need Jameson back. Guy was a wizard on the keys. But, thanks for letting me know.” The man sighed heavily then turned around and walked away, muttering angrily to himself. But Henrik was still staring at the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him a full minute to just be able to walk away. Cause ... fuck. That had to be the man that Chase saw last night. And if Chase’s Cat and Jackie’s tormenter were indeed the same person, and if he actually had powers, like Jackie? ... Henrik sat in his car but couldn’t start it. He just sat there. Cause how could he have missed this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing he could figure out was that he would need caffeine. Lots of caffeine. He didn’t know the next time he’d sleep. And he was the only one who had practice staying up over 36 hours .</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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